Punk Rock Vampire (ON HIATUS)
by afilmmefatale
Summary: The night Michonne graduated high school, Rick disappeared from her life without a trace. Years later, he returns with a vengeance, setting her on a dangerous course to discover the dark past of her true identity. Rated M for adult language, violence and explicit content.
1. Prologue

**So happy to finally begin this Richonne dark romance of supernatural and musical origins. Inspired by Tamar-kali's afropunk album, _Black Bottom_, this is a vampire meets human love story, with our very own Rick as the titular vampire. This is just a teaser of what's to come, with the first chapter dropping next Sunday. Hope you're interested in joining me for this journey!**

* * *

_Dear Rick, _

_I hope you're unwell. Like down in a ditch, bleeding out, with no hope of rescue. Only then might you glimpse my level of suffering. _

_Hate you always,_

_Michonne_

Michonne's therapist would say writing hate letters before every performance was a cry for help. He might be right, though Michonne liked to think of it as more of a battle cry.

The aggressive jiggle of the door handle interrupted her sacred ritual. "Why is this locked?" Andrea yelled from the other side of the dressing room door. "Get your ass out here, Mich. We're on in two minutes!"

"I'm coming," Michonne said evenly, projecting her voice with the ease of a lead singer.

She pulled a lighter from the back pocket of her skinny jeans and flipped open the lid. Her eyes lingered on the inscription etched in the silver cap: _Queen of the New Age. _The words served as a reminder to never trust people beyond their actions. Benefit of the doubt was for suckers.

Holding the letter at arm's length, Michonne ignited the lighter, casting the handwritten lettering in a soft orange glow. She whispered the words that epitomized her life post-Rick. "Media vita in morte sumus." In the midst of our lives we die.

And then she set fire to the pain.


	2. Pearl

**A/N: The response to the teaser has been so encouraging! It took me a little longer to get this out than I'd hoped, as I was working on other projects, but thanks for being here when I finally had a chance to post! I'm a huge fantasy/paranormal/supernatural fan, but this is one of the few times I've really ventured into the genre for a Richonne fic. I think this may become a trend. :) I'm itching to explore this Vampire Rick/Human Michonne dynamic and am so excited you're along for the ride!**

* * *

Rick watched from backstage, as enthralled with Michonne as the crowd. She lingered on the edge of the stage, whipping her long locs in a circular motion in sync with the music of her band. One half of her head was shaved almost down to the scalp. The hairstyle was new. It suited her.

Rick had come to the show straight from his business meeting. The bumper-to-bumper traffic characteristic of the Seattle metro area had him itching to fly, but the need for discretion had outweighed his impatience. Michonne's band, _Angry Black Woman,_ was opening their first statewide tour in the city she'd called home for the past five years.

As a successful but unremarkable contracts lawyer, Rick had the time to both manage his territory and remain close - but unconnected - to Michonne. Attending her concerts was always a risk, but this was a major event in her career that he'd refused to miss, even if she remained completely oblivious of his presence.

Michonne's best friend, Andrea, pounded on the drums with a ferocity that Rick admired. She and Michonne had met in college, where they formed the band with another girl who eventually dropped out to attend med school. The softness of her big blue eyes and cropped curly blonde hair contrasted with her bulging biceps, as she kept the beat of the punk rock melody.

Sasha, the third member of the band, played a bass guitar that was nearly half her size. A brilliant guitar player, she was more on the quiet side, spending most of her free time reading books and watching episodes of Star Trek. Rick had no clue why Daryl had inserted that last detail in his notes.

Mike, the lead guitarist and most recent band member, joined Michonne front and center. They played off of each other seamlessly, ensconced in the rhythm of their own world, as she belted out the haunting lyrics:

_Filled with doubt, though she is right_

_So she moves, anxious but steadily_

_Fading now into the night_

According to Daryl, who kept a close eye on Michonne while Rick traveled for clan business, the two musicians had become an item months ago, while he was attending a gathering on the East Coast. Their chemistry translated onstage, Michonne gazing into Mike's eyes as she sang and he strummed his electric guitar, their deep brown complexions shining blue in the stage lights. Michonne's skin held an ethereal glow, making Rick's fangs tingle.

The wood of the column he was holding cracked and groaned beneath his death grip. Rick took a breath, releasing the pole before he did noticeable damage. Michonne was a grown woman, free to make her own mistakes both in life and in love.

From what Rick had gleaned from his own background check, Mike's ambition made him more of a business man than an artist. He'd played for a number of bands before joining _Angry Black Woman_ a little over a year ago. While Michonne was content to perform music for her fans throughout the Pacific Northwest, Mike wanted more - more money, more fame, more opportunity. Whether Michonne had picked up on that - or had simply chosen to ignore it - Rick was unsure.

Their duet ended in a screeching crescendo, the crowd shouting its admiration. Michonne returned to the mic, her skin glistening with sweat:

_And she ran like blood _

_Through the corridors of your mind_

Her deep, soulful voice raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. He was one of the few people who knew the source of the anger and resentment in her lyrics, how much she'd had to overcome to make it this far; to make a name for herself doing the thing she loved most in the world. And how he'd almost interfered with that.

_Into a bright new future _

_One without the likes of you_

She drew out the _you_, ending the line with a yell, the crowd feeding off of her rage. Most people would miss the tremor in her voice, but not Rick.

He noticed everything about Michonne.

"A sold out show," Spencer interrupted Rick's thoughts, handing him an envelope stuffed with cash. The tall promoter kept his eyes glued on Michonne.

While Rick's main intention in attending the concert was to see the band perform, he was also there to take care of business. Michonne need not know what he handled for her behind the scenes.

"As promised," Rick said, thumbing through the hundred dollar bills. Before he'd inserted himself into the role of her secret manager, the band had trouble with low pay and bouncing checks. Now, they received fair pay in cash only. Rick cocked his head. "You're short eight hundred bucks."

"Are you accusing me of stiffing you?" Spencer asked. He crowded Rick, assuming his height would intimidate him.

Spencer had stirred the beast. Rick's blue eyes flashed with menace, the bloodlust rising like bile in his throat. He was dressed in a navy blue Armani suit, but if Spencer was looking for a fight, he'd be more than happy to get a little dirty. Rick could use a snack.

Unfortunately, Spencer turned out to be smarter than he thought, taking a step back in retreat. "I'm just kidding, man." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped wad of cash. Handing it to Rick, he said, "I was just trying to keep you guys fair. You have no idea how much work I put into this concert. You think booking a tour for an obscure punk rock band was easy?"

"And you've been paid generously, especially considering my connections are what got you through the door in the first place."

"Either way, I worked my ass off to sell out the show. Without me this place would only be half full."

"The basic job of a promoter." Rick stared the tall man down, daring Spencer to further provoke him.

"Whatever, man," the promoter said.

"One more thing," Rick said, yanking Spencer by the shoulder to bring him closer. He leaned in, capturing the man's eyes. "Forget you ever saw me." He watched the light of recognition drain from Spencer's eyes. "Get lost." Rick would have Daryl ensure the band's pay was delivered into the proper hands.

Spencer stumbled back, shaking his head. He paused, staring at Rick with veiled hostility, before he obeyed and retreated. Enthusiastic applause filled the venue, distracting the predator in Rick from stalking after his prey.

"You rock!" Michonne waved to folks in the crowd, her softer side peeking through. "It took us five years to get here, but you all are the reason we sold this place out." Hands shot into the air, shouts and cheers filling the venue.

"Have my baby!" A male voice shouted. Rick growled, his eyes searching the crowd for the man whose life would soon take a tragic turn.

"Appreciate the offer, hon, but I'll let Mike take care of that." The screams of the women in the crowd were overwhelming. "We love you, Tacoma!"

The band exited the stage to raucous applause. Rick moved into the shadows, shielded in the darkness that enveloped him like a second skin. His preternatural stillness ensured he would go unnoticed as usual, even though he was less than ten feet away from the woman he hadn't spoken to in over twenty years.

"I wish people would just stop falling in love with me," Michonne joked, grabbing a hand towel. Rick's eyes followed the towel was she dipped it into the hollow between her breasts. Her dark t-shirt was soaked with sweat and eagerly clinging to her chest.

"Then stop wearing those tight ass jeans," Andrea teased, gulping down a bottle of water.

"It'll take a lot more than that," Sasha mumbled as she wiped down her bass guitar.

Shouts of _Encore_ slowly built up from the crowd. Mike slipped his arm around Michonne's waist, planting a sloppy kiss on her perky lips. "Our fans await, your highness."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Michonne beamed. It'd been years since Rick had seen that smile.

Michonne grabbed Andrea's water bottle, taking a deep swig, water dripping down her chin and disappearing between her eye-catching cleavage.

Mike tapped her lightly on the butt. "Let's not keep them waiting."

Rick calculated the effort it would take to dislodge Mike's hand, which lingered on Michonne's firm backside, from his wrist permanently. Exposing himself to Michonne was the only thing stopping him. He could never interfere, only watch over her from the shadows, protecting her from the imminent threat that would arise if his rivals became aware of her existence.

Rick slipped through the backstage door and into the alley. Breathing in the crisp autumn air helped to clear his head. Being in such close proximity to Michonne put both their lives in danger, as her all-consuming presence screwed with his hyperactive senses.

Luckily, he regained his alertness just in time to notice the figure charging him from behind, sprinting through the alley at full-speed. Rick used the momentum of his attacker against him, reaching behind him to grab his assailant by the throat and flip him backwards into a dumpster, the force leaving a man-sized dent in the dumpster.

The vampire sprung to his feet, completely unfazed by the crushing blow that would have killed a mortal being. Broken bones cracked back into place as he adjusted his stance.

"How dare you enter my territory without an invitation," Rick growled, his fangs descending. He'd decapitated vampires for much smaller offenses.

Martinez smirked, his brown eyes morphing into glowing sapphire orbs. "The Governor sends his condolences."

"If the Governor wants me dead, he'll have to do better than you." Rick baited Martinez, who was known as much for his ruthless kills as he was for his short temper.

Martinez's yell echoed throughout the alley as he charged Rick full-on. As he pounced through the air, Rick was there to meet him, sinking his fangs into his assailant's throat before ripping it clean out.

Martinez collapsed, his hands grasping at the gaping hole in his neck, spilling the precious blood he'd likely consumed right before the attack. The wound would not kill the vampire, but it would set the stage nicely for Rick's interrogation.

If the Governor had really wanted Rick dead, he would have sent the only vampire who could beat him, not one of his lackeys. Martinez was just the messenger. Or a distraction.

Rick crouched in front of the Governor's left-hand man, blood seeping through the man's fingers at a rapidly decreasing pace as the wound repaired itself. Rick took a few breaths to clear the bluish tint from his vision, taking the control back from the predator. "By the time that heals, you're going to tell me the real reason you're here. Or I'll rip you open in a place that'll take a lot longer to heal."

* * *

"I can't compete with a ghost." Apparently, the man who'd abandoned Michonne all those years ago was still intruding in her life.

Michonne sat cross-legged on the bed in Mike's t-shirt. She was glad she'd at least put on underwear for this conversation. They were in the massive RV that would serve as their tour bus for the next few months, having just christened the queen bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Mike's gloominess was ruining her post-coital high.

Michonne almost laughed at his consistency. "Must you bring this up every time we fuck?"

Mike angrily pulled on his jeans. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something felt different; a vibe she didn't like. He squinted his eyes in controlled anger. "You mean like every time you shout another man's name in bed?" He turned away, his muscled back and tapered waist in full view. She still wanted him. She needed to make this right.

Like the other times - and there really weren't that many - an image of Rick's piercing blue eyes had come out of nowhere when she'd orgasmed with Mike's tongue lodged in the apex of her thighs. Apparently, the letter burning had purged everything but Rick's name from her mouth.

"It's just something I do. It doesn't mean anything." She sat up on her knees, moving to the edge of the bed. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, her hands playing with the springy hair covering his exquisitely firm pecs. Michonne appreciated a hairy chest. "You've been grumpier than usual lately. We're supposed to be celebrating. What's up?"

Mike's jealousy was becoming a broken record. No matter how much she assured him that he was the only one she loved, he refused to believe her. After months together, he still didn't trust her. She trailed her hand along the sculpted lines of his six pack. He grabbed her hand just before she reached the promised land. He turned to face her. "We need to talk." She disliked the gravity in his tone.

She slipped his t-shirt over her head. His eyes drifted to her bare breasts, her nipples tightening under his gaze. "Can we talk after?" she moved for his zipper, but he stilled her hands.

"This is serious, Michonne."

She grabbed the growing bulge in his crotch. Mike sucked in a sharp breath. "No more serious than my need to wrap my lips around your-"

"I'm leaving," he blurted out. He finally had her attention. "The band. I'm leaving the band."

She sat back on her haunches. "I am the band. You're leaving me." Suddenly feeling vulnerable in her nakedness, she scooped up her strapless bra, slipping it on in one swift movement.

Mike grabbed his t-shirt and yanked it on. "Yes, I'm leaving you." At least he had the decency to look her in the eye. "I can't do this any longer. I need more."

Michonne crossed her arms over her chest. "Need more what? Money? This tour is our big break. All that is coming. You just have to be patient."

"I've been patient for almost a year. With my career and with you."

"So this is about us then? You'd break up the band, right before our tour, just because you don't want to be with me?" Michonne vibrated with anger, her blood heating just below the surface.

Mike took a step away from the bed, away from her. "You know things haven't been good between us for a while. And I've made arrangements for Terry to take my place on the tour. You know this is for the best."

Michonne squeezed her eyes shut. The timing was shitty, but she couldn't deny the truth in his words. This had become a pattern for her. When her partner desired intimacy, the one thing she was incapable of giving, she chose to focus on the sex and keep the distance. It worked for most men, but the ones like Mike, who actually loved her, could only take so much before they gave up on trying.

"Get the fuck out then," she said evenly. Michonne could feel the pity and regret building in her chest and wanted him long gone before the tears came. She told herself the pain in his eyes wasn't real, that he just wanted to relieve himself of the guilt of leaving them in a lurch.

If she were at all interested in being an adult, she would've exercised more tact. He cared about her and didn't deserve such a callous dismissal. But she was pissed at him and at the world in general.

Mike huffed, shaking his head. He grabbed his duffle bag and guitar case. Standing in the doorway of the cramped space, he said, "I wish things could have been-"

Mike's words caught in his throat as a bloody hand burst through his chest.

"Mike!" Michonne screamed, her face splattered with his warm blood.

"Michonne," he said, blood gurgling in his throat and dripping from the side of his mouth. She watched in horror as the life drifted from his wide eyes.

The hand in his chest disappeared and Mike crumpled to the floor, his body devoid of all life. The woman who stood in his place, drenched with Mike's blood up to her forearm, had the palest skin Michonne had ever seen, almost to the point of translucence.

Her pale blue eyes scanned Michonne's partially naked form. "This is it?"

Michonne was trapped, the woman blocking the only exit from the tiny room. To her surprise, in place of fear, she felt blinding anger. As she watched a pool of blood grow beneath Mike's lifeless body, the blood in her veins literally boiled. "Who the fuck are you?"

The woman cocked her head to the side. "I'm impressed." She pushed Mike's corpse aside with her foot, creeping further into the room. "I thought you'd at least beg for your life." She stepped onto the bed, her high-heeled, leather boots leaving bloody footprints.

Michonne pressed her back against the headboard, with nowhere to go. She was pissed, but she was helpless, with no way to defend herself from this psycho. "Why did you kill Mike? _How_ did you-" The horrific image was burned into her brain.

The woman sniffed the air. "What is that scent?" She smiled, revealing a set of sharp fangs. "Is that you?"

The last of Michonne's courage dissolved in the face of those fangs. This wasn't a woman at all - it was a monster. "Vampire?" she gasped.

The creature knelt before her, blue swirling in her sinisterly pale eyes. Michonne pressed further into the headboard, completely at her mercy. "Please, don't hurt me."

The vampire sniffed at Michonne's neck. "That smell. Sweet and…" She buried her nose in the crook of her neck. "Spicy. No wonder Rick's obsessed with you."

"Rick?" Michonne gaped. Adrenaline surged through her veins at the mention of the person she hated most in this world.

"May as well see what all the fuss is about," the vampire said. Michonne whimpered as sharp fangs pierced her neck.

"No!" she yelled, her body completely paralyzed with fear as the woman sucked at the blood trickling from her neck.

Michonne's eyes drifted to Mike, a tingling sensation growing in her belly. She summoned the last of her strength, pushing the vampire off of her with enough force to send it flying across the bed and into the wall.

The vampire hissed and screeched. Kneeling on all fours, she looked ready to pounce. "You're gonna pay for that." But before she could make a move, she clawed at her throat. "It burns!" she screeched in pain.

All Michonne could do was watch as a hole burned through the creature's throat, as though a fire had been lit from within. Her eyes widened in terror as the rest of the vampire's body followed, her body disintegrating into a pile of white ash.

"Michonne!" The sound of someone yelling her name pulled her out of the haze of shock.

In the doorway, stood the ghost who'd haunted her these past twenty years. Except now he was in the flesh - and in her bedroom.

"Rick."

All Michonne could see was red.

* * *

Rick was no stranger to the extraordinary. He'd encountered the mystical both before and after his life as a vampire. But the oddness of this scene was a first for him.

Mike's corpse in a pool of cold blood. A pile of white ash and black leather. And a woman who looked like Michonne, the shaved part of head now a blood red that matched the scarlet of her murderous eyes. In a white lace bra and panties, she oozed a dangerous aura that was far from the Michonne he knew.

"It's me, Michonne," Rick said calmly, wanting to give her as little of a reason to attack as possible. "It's Rick."

From the snarl she emitted, he wasn't sure if her recognition of him was working to his advantage. She tracked him with predatory eyes as he eased deeper into the tight space, the odor of singed flesh and metallic blood assaulting his hyperactive sense of smell.

Rick held up his hands in surrender. "I'm here to help." Actually, he was there to save her, but maybe he was more in need of saving at this point. If the Governor had known how powerful she truly was, he'd have sent an entire army after her.

Michonne adjusted her position. She would strike, but he'd be ready to subdue her. The shrill ringing of a cell phone broke the tension, playing an _Angry Black Woman_ melody he recognized. It was a raw, angry ballad that he'd suspected Michonne had written about him. He'd planned on using the distraction to catch her off guard, but instead the music flipped some sort of switch inside of Michonne, the red draining from her eyes, replaced by the deep brown he found so captivating.

When she collapsed he was there, catching her in his arms. "I'm here, Michonne," he whispered, caressing her hair, the rich black of her locs contrasting with the shock of red that remained. "And I'm never leaving you again."

* * *

**A/N: Welcome to the world of Richonne, vampires and so much more! Thanks for taking an interest in this supernatural fic. The lyrics are from Tamar-Kali's song, _Pearl_.** **I plan on updating this often, so the chapters will be on the shorter side. Michonne is almost as much a mystery to vampire Rick as she is to us. Hope you stick around to uncover the truth behind her powers. As always, many thanks for the follows, faves and reviews!**


	3. Hollow

Merle trekked down the dank corridor to the Governor's lair, the coolness making him long for the warm summers of his youth. Warmth was an elusive memory; all he had now was the cold.

Male screams echoed against the walls, growing stronger as Merle headed in that direction. He hated hearing a vampire scream. It was like a cross between a possum's hiss and a cat in heat.

He pulled open the heavy wood door to the Governor's chamber, the stale air swollen with the stench of vampire piss. He'd be smelling that funk for days.

Strapped to an operating table was a vampire writhing in pain, without a single mark on his bare white chest. Merle wondered what tortuous cocktail the Governor had mixed up this time.

The Governor sat in an armchair, calmly thumbing through the thin pages of a beaten, leather-bound book. It was as though he existed in his own cruel world, completely oblivious to the presence of others. But Merle knew better.

He stopped a safe distance away; it would be daylight soon. He patiently waited to be addressed. The last vamp who'd spoken out of turn was the one now strapped to the table.

"What am I missing? He should've transformed by now."

_Into what? _Merle suppressed a shudder at the memory of the deformed beast he'd met with the last time he'd been down here.

After a long enough pause to make Merle nervous, the Governor acknowledged him. "Where's the girl?"

"She got away." Merle slightly shifted onto his other foot. He shouldn't be the messenger, but the vampire who'd fucked up was the pile of white ash currently in a garbage bag in the trunk of his Mustang.

"Rowan?"

"Dead."

The Governor's expression remained impassive, though the twitch in his right eyebrow told Merle that he was pissed. "How?"

"Well…" Merle wasn't sure what the hell had happened. "She turned into…ash. White ash."

"White. Ash." The Governor emphasized the _White_.

"Yes, Sir." Merle knew better than to ask what was really on his mind: What's powerful enough to burn a vampire alive?

"Any whereabouts on the girl?"

"She's not at her apartment or with any of the band mates. The boyfriend is dead."

"And let me guess - Rick is acting like normal."

"Martinez lost track of him just before the girl disappeared. He came home alone a few hours later."

Sleep tugged at Merle as the dawn sky began to emerge in the only window in the dark basement. He took another step back as the first rays of sun shone through the small circular window, which couldn't be wider than a fishbowl. The curved glass magnified the light into a strong beam. Merle snarled. Even from ten feet away, he could sense the heat of the sun's power.

The vampire screamed for the last time, as sunlight first singed, then melted away the skin of his chest. Merle averted his eyes before the light burned down to the bone. The silence told him it was over. There would be a smoking hole where the vamp's heart used to be.

The Governor remained seated, bathed in light and yet completely unaffected. Merle reminded himself the Governor wasn't human, but that his tolerance of the sun had meant that he wasn't a regular vamp either. Merle figured he knew everything about the Governor that he needed to know - he hated vampires even more than he did.

"Have Tim and Crowley follow Rick. He'll lead her to us eventually."

Merle departed, the pull of the sun making it hard to keep his eyes open. He'd prepare the day team before retiring to his coffin. Vampires never dreamed. And this was one of the times he was grateful for it.

* * *

Michonne awoke from a new nightmare. She reached for Mike, finding his arms snuggly wrapped around her.

"Bad dream?" His voice was heavy with sleep. She'd woken him and only felt the more guilty.

Michonne pulled Mike's arms tighter around her, snuggling back into him until she found the perfect fit. "I thought you'd died."As much as she'd fought him in the beginning, she'd eventually surrendered to his excessive need to spoon.

"Why do you always think I'm going to leave you? You only _wish_ you could get rid of me that easily." She could hear the smile in his groggy voice.

After a pause, he asked, "You still awake?" He knew full well that she was. She wondered if he didn't actually look forward to her waking up in the middle of the night.

Michonne feigned snoring sounds. Mike pressed into her from behind. She squeezed his wrist, remaining silent, curious to see what he'd do.

The hand around her waist snaked its way up her t-shirt, fondling her breast. She couldn't help but moan in return. Mike had always been good with his hands.

"Give it to me baby," Mike sang in a whisper. She giggled, her desire rising. Rick James was baby-making music.

She rolled over to face him. He took advantage of the position, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. Michonne's hand drifted down his hard chest. She stilled, willing herself to open her eyes. Looking between them, she found a gaping hole where Mike's heart should be.

Michonne jolted awake, the pain of his death rushing back. She put a hand on her chest, catching her breath. She was awake for real this time.

She stared up at the ceiling. She just needed a moment to breathe, a moment to suffer through his death all over again.

Michonne focused on a dark spot on the white ceiling. White ceiling? Wait, this wasn't her ceiling. She sat up in bed, the red silk sheets slinking away from her form. She donned a white dress shirt that wasn't hers; in a bed that wasn't hers.

The room was pitch black, except for the dim light from the bedside lamp. Michonne shut her eyes, trying to see beyond Mike's death, to what else transpired last night. But all she could remember was the vampire with the bluest eyes sinking fangs into her neck. Everything after that was blank. Except for…

"Michonne," a voice spoke from a dark corner of the room.

In these twenty years of separation, she still hadn't forgotten that voice. The way he pronounced her name, in that Southern drawl that was light in the beginning and heavy at the end. Her name on his tongue made her heart twinge - in fury.

A shadow emerged from the darkness, stepping into the dim light of the bedside lamp. Michonne had no problem recognizing the man standing in front of her. "Rick." His name was like gravel in her throat, painful to swallow.

His eyes were unreadable and a lighter blue than she remembered. It was the only thing different about him; that, and the beard. His features were frozen in time. He should be in his late fifties now, but still looked to be in the peak of his thirties. Everything felt wrong and she had no idea where to start.

"I know you have a lot of questions. We'll have time for that later." Yet another thing about Rick that hadn't changed - he was all business. What happened in the past was forgettable, unless it pertained to the here and now. "You're in danger."

"Mike is dead. And you show up out of nowhere, after twenty years?" She huffed in offense. He could've at least asked for her forgiveness. But maybe she'd meant nothing to him all along. She'd just been a teenage girl with a crush and he'd only been in her life to what? Help her? She had enough on her plate without all this. Michonne flung the sheets away, the cold of the room assaulting her bare thighs. "Let's just act like this never happened."

Always the gentleman, Rick glanced away as she pulled on her skinny jeans, which were freshly laundered and infused with the scent of lavender - her favorite scent. She adorned her socks, belt and boots in little time. The only thing missing was her shirt. Rick's would have to do for now - she'd burn it later.

Distress brewed at the thought of having to tell Andrea and Sasha about Mike. And the tour? She didn't think she could do it without him. Not like this. In one moment, the thing she'd strived for most in life had spoiled. It tasted not of victory but like a prime cut gone bad.

"We're done." Michonne had often imagined what it would be like to see Rick again. She'd longed for it, really. She'd fantasized he'd come to her on his knees, full of regret and seeking atonement. Other times, she said all the hateful things she'd been holding onto for the past twenty years, forcing him to take on the pain he'd caused.

But now that he was here, close enough for her to touch, she wanted nothing more than for him to disappear again. Making her way around the bed, she headed for the door.

In the blink of an eye, Rick stood in front of her. "You can't leave," he said in a low voice.

"Excuse me?" Michonne spat, thrown off by his lightning quick movement and sudden close proximity. _Damn, he smells good_. Like freshly chopped cedar. "I'm not a kid anymore. You can't tell me what to do."

Rick had effectively placed himself between Michonne and the door. If she wanted to leave, she'd have to go through him. "If you're a vampire, like that creature who attacked me, you can't bite me. Unless you want to end up dead, like her." She had no idea if, or even how, this could be true, but it was the only card she had to play.

Rick ignored her. "If you're worried about the show tonight, everything's already taken care of."

"What do you mean _taken care of_?" The thought of him interfering in her life, like they actually had some sort of relationship, infuriated her even more.

"The show's going on as scheduled. As for Mike, Andrea and Sasha think he had to leave for a family emergency."

"Why would they think that?"

"Because that's why I told them to think. And you'll also do as I say." He closed in on me. "Tell me what you are."

His dark pupils bled into the light blue of his eyes. A silky warmth encompassed her mind, pulling at her to just relax, to just give in.

Something, like a wall of heat, rose behind her eyes. She should've cowered at his exertion of power, which proved Rick was anything but the man she thought he was; that he was a vampire. "Maybe I should be demanding the same of you. What are you, Rick?"

Rick took a step back, a look of curiosity on his face. Suddenly, the space he occupied was empty and Michonne heard the door open and shut in an instant. The click of a lock set her blood boiling.

She grabbed the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. She was trapped. Michonne pounded on the wood, first with her fists and then with her feet. "No you didn't just fucking lock me in here!"

* * *

Michonne continued to pound on the door as Rick walked down the hallway to confer with Daryl. Something besides her foot crashed against the door. He guessed it was the chair. The door was specially constructed to keep even a vampire from escaping. Michonne wasn't going anywhere.

"I swear to all that's unholy, I'm going to kick your ass when I get out of here!" She screamed in frustration.

Rick closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Daryl grunted. "She always been this pleasant?" His second-in-command looked alert and ready for his morning orders, while Rick had to use all of his energy just to focus on the task at hand.

Rick felt guilty at the sudden realization of his answer. "She was happy…back then." Now, she brandished thorns on her sleeve.

"What changed?"

This was the first conversation he'd had with Daryl in a while. Michonne's presence in his home was stirring up more than just a passing interest among his staff. In many ways, Michonne was as much a mystery to Rick as she was to Daryl.

"She's been through a lot." Now was not the time for details.

Daryl nodded to a small plastic bag in Rick's hand. "What's that?"

The bag held Michonne's bloody t-shirt. "Getting this analyzed. We need to figure out what she is before the Governor does."

"Haven't been around as long as you, but seeing a vampire die like that was a first."

"Us both."

"And she wasn't like this when she was younger?"

"I'd always sensed something different about her; something dark. She was smart, not many friends. Family was the most important thing to her."

Daryl nodded. "Still nothing on the father. I may have a new lead though."

Rick yawned. It'd been years since he'd stayed up this long after sunrise.

"Ain't it past your bedtime?"

"Sleep can wait."

Silence met his ears. Rick listened, worried that Michonne had injured herself in her attempts to escape. And then she started up again, adding more expletives to her protests. And threats to his manhood.

He might actually enjoy getting to know this new side to Michonne. He'd always watched out for her from afar, ensuring she was provided for in every aspect of her life. Over time, she'd grown from an observant teen into an impressively brash woman - a woman he'd come to admire and respect. It was his duty to protect her.

"What d'ya think the Governor wants with her?" Daryl asked.

_Yep_, Rick noticed, he was definitely more talkative than usual. "To use against me."

At least, that had been the initial reason. With the death of his lover, Rowan, Rick could only imagine what the Governor had in store for Michonne. He'd heard the rumors about his experiments on the vampires he'd captured. What would he do with someone like Michonne, who had the power to resist Rick's mind control?

"Don't leave her side," Rick said, gravely. Daryl was the only one he trusted with the task; and not just because he headed his daylight team. "Until I can come up with a better way to protect her."

Rick departed at Daryl's nod. Sleep wouldn't come for a while.

* * *

Michonne had given up on yelling some time ago. She needed to save her voice for tonight's show.

After she'd settled down, she realized she didn't know if it was day or night, as the room had no windows. Finding her cell phone had settled that mystery. It was just after noon.

Unfortunately, she had no cell reception. And the only interaction she'd had in that time was with a grungy member of Rick's staff. He'd brought her a tray with a deli sandwich and bottled water.

"I'm vegetarian," she'd said, when he told her the sandwich was turkey.

"No, you ain't," he'd mumbled, catching her in a lie.

His accent reminded Michonne of her long-lost relatives in a small town outside of Georgia, who she'd recently tracked down through social media. "You're not a vampire, are you?"

His energy felt different, warm and full of life, even though he was dressed in all black, from his boots to his leather coat. He wore his shaggy brown hair long, just reaching to his shoulders, in contrast to his neatly trimmed, graying beard. "I'm Rick's familiar. Daryl."

"His familiar?" She'd only read about this kind of thing in her paranormal romance novels. She'd never once believed any of it was true. And then a vampire tried to suck her blood.

The feeling he gave her was different from the one she'd gotten from the boot-clad vampire and from Rick. Their coldness had felt like the warning growl of a wolf before it attacks, while Daryl's energy was more like that of a loyal dog who'd keep your feet warm in the winter.

"Rick is my master," he said, Michonne appreciating his patient tone. "In exchange for my services, I get to drink his blood a few times a year." Michonne cringed at the thought. "It gives me strength and long life, an extra fifty years if I'm lucky."

"And what are your services, exactly?"

"Anything he needs. Like babysitting you."

Michonne decided to ignore that jab, in favor of bargaining a way out of captivity. "Letting me go would be easier for all of us." She flashed the smile that reliably brought her male fans to their knees.

"Sure, as soon as Rick says you can go, you're free to leave."

And with that, he left. That had been almost four hours ago. Andrea was probably blowing up her phone with accusations of her and Mike being holed up in a hotel room somewhere.

Luckily, the room she was currently being held prisoner in, had a private restroom, so she'd at least been able to take care of the basics. Michonne's stomach growled; the room service was lacking.

Just as she finished the thought, she heard the lock on her door click open.

"About time," she said, as the door swung open. "A girl's gotta eat."

Michonne came to a halt as she realized the figure in the door wasn't Daryl. The man stood at over six feet, his scowl menacing, with a bandana wrapped around his forehead.

"Who are you?" She took a step back as he took a step forward into the room.

And that's when she heard the characteristic scuffle of a fight. She assumed it was Daryl, who probably wouldn't be coming to her rescue soon. "You know, if you bite me, you'll die." She needed to buy time.

The man seemed genuinely amused. "I'm not a vampire."

"Of course, you aren't. Who knows what anyone is nowadays?" She was rambling, but it was her only line of defense.

Just as she'd considered making a run for it, a limp body flew through the doorway, slamming into the man from behind. He crashed to the floor, disoriented.

Before he could respond, Daryl was on him. He delivered a one-two punch, rendering the man unconscious. Michonne let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Thank you," she said, panting her relief.

Why the heck was she thanking her captor?

"There were only two of them. You're safe now," Daryl said.

She finally noticed the body that had been flung through the door. He was handsome, Asian and as unconscious as his colleague.

"What are you going to do with them?" The pair didn't appear to be dead.

"Interrogate 'em."

Daryl moved quickly after that, ordering a team of men to clear the room. After they were done, he came back.

"You're free to go," he said, handing Michonne a bag with her laundered t-shirt.

She should have just walked through the door, but the curiosity her mama always said was deadlier than a cat's reared it's head. "Why?"

"Because Rick doesn't need to keep you here anymore."

"What's that mean?" She had a feeling things weren't done with Rick.

Daryl just nodded and left her to make her own decision. Michonne walked out of the room, not knowing how she felt about Rick's casual dismissal of her.

She had so many questions. Was she safe? Who was after him?

Something told her this wouldn't be her last time seeing Rick or his cronies, and in the dustiest corner of her heart, she realized she might actually be okay with that.

* * *

"Don't worry. We've already met the replacement," Andrea said.

Michonne had made it to the venue with ten minutes to spare, only to find that Terry was nowhere to be found, after she'd already made arrangements with him earlier that night.

"He's amazing, how'd you find him?" Sasha beamed. Michonne had never seen her smile so big.

"What replacement?" Michonne was thoroughly confused.

"Rick."

Michonne's heart twinged. "Rick?"

"Yep," Rick said from behind her.

Michonne groaned before turning around. Rick stood with a blue electric guitar, dressed in a button-down denim shirt that matched his eyes. The black jeans he wore clung to his muscular thighs and she could only imagine the view she'd have of him from behind. His brown curls were neatly tucked behind his ears. He looked the complete opposite of a ruthless vampire.

"Why wouldn't we? He already knows all of our songs," Andrea said.

"Does he?" Michonne eyed him suspiciously.

"Passed the test with flying colors," Sasha piped in.

"Nope. Not gonna happen." Michonne was drawing the line. There was no way she was going to spend the next month on tour with Rick.

"But if we don't go out there tonight, we'll lose the trust of our fans. And we can't survive without them. We'd have to cancel the tour." Andrea gave Michonne big blue, doe eyes. "The band needs this."

Michonne sighed sharply. This was more than just her career on the line. She had other people to think about besides herself. "One show."

Rick's smirk made her immediately regret her decision.

* * *

_Now can you love a girl, _

_Who says that those who love are mere fools? _

_Now can you love a girl, _

_Who'd rather live life numb than love you? _

While Rick knew the music for the song perfectly, this was his first time hearing the new lyrics. Michonne had given them a heads up just before they'd gone on stage. Apparently, she'd made the most of her time in captivity. Her voice was dark and piercing as she sang:

_She's hollow. Hollow. _

_Hollow. Hollow._

Rick grimaced through the growing pain in his head, focusing on strumming the strings of his guitar, as his ears began to bleed.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the update! The lyrics are from Tamar-Kali's song, _Hollow_. The next chapter will be dropped close to Halloween, so I'll do my best to make it a fun one. We'll even learn more about what the heck Michonne is. Thanks again for all of the interest in this story, the faves, the follows and the always insightful comments! **


	4. Caught

Rick breathed through the painful pounding in his eardrums, relieved that at least the ringing had subsided. It was taking longer than usual to heal.

Luckily, the high of playing the guitar again, in front of a live audience, counteracted the throbbing in the back of his brain. The rush had almost been as thrilling as feeding on a donor for the first time.

"Michonne's blood results came back," Daryl said, handing Rick a handkerchief. "She's 100% human."

Rick dipped the handkerchief in his glass of water, using the damp cloth to wipe the dried blood from his healing ears. The two-hour show had pushed him to his limits. He'd need to feed again before the next performance.

"_She_ is," Rick said, "but not the spirit living inside of her." If he'd been in doubt before, he was dead sure after being in such close proximity with her - that voice was anything but human.

"Spirit? Of what?" Daryl had seen a lot in his eight years as Rick's familiar, but his interactions had been limited to vampires and other familiars. He had yet to come into contact with the other supernaturals that existed alongside Rick's kind.

"A siren, best I can tell." Rick had spent hours pouring over his personal collection of books, combing through tomes that held knowledge cultivated at the very beginnings of the supernatural race - long before humans even developed the ability to speak - to find the key to Michonne's true nature. Her singing had always had a unique effect on him, pulled him to her, coaxing him to trust and obey. It's the reason he never stayed through an entire show and why he made sure to keep his distance. The closer he was to her, the stronger the pull.

Resisting her caused him pain. Being by her side caused him pain. When it came down to a choice between the two, he would always choose the latter. How much of that choice was a result of his own will was up for debate.

Rick and Daryl were backstage, amongst the crew he'd hired to support the band on the road. They were vampires from Rick's clan, all eager to get on his good side. It never failed to surprise him how lesser vampires flocked to power, hoping to have it somehow rub off on them.

He hadn't asked for any of it. Not to be the head of the Puget Sound clan and certainly not for this latest promotion.

But Deanna had placed him in leadership early on, seeing something in him that he hadn't seen in himself. Unfortunately, the new power not only came with the responsibility of protecting the vampires in his clan, but made him the target of his older counterpart, Phillip, who'd made it his mission to remove Rick from leadership once and for all.

Making a play for Michonne was his rival's latest scheme. Unbeknownst to Phillip, Michonne was off limits. He'd crossed a line that required Rick to remove his rival as a threat permanently.

"Didn't know sirens ever existed," Daryl said.

"Neither did I, before this. Which is why I need to keep her as close to me as possible."

"I thought you were keeping your distance."

In these past few years, Daryl had spent more time around Michonne than Rick had, ensuring her safety and well-being from the shadows. Clan business kept him occupied the majority of the time, only allowing him to keep tabs on Michonne mainly through his familiar's weekly reports.

"The best way to protect Michonne is to make sure she's by my side. At all times."

"That's gonna be tough with the ceremony tomorrow night. And the Governor's gonna find her eventually."

"Which is why I'll save him the trouble."

"How?"

"By bringing her to him. As my guest tomorrow night."

Daryl's face remained impassive, but Rick could sense the doubt in his voice. "If you bring her with you…"

"It means she's off limits to everyone, including the Governor."

"It'd mean a hell of a lot more than that."

Rick examined Daryl closely. His second-in-command had never been adamant about much of anything, let alone the well-being of a human. The main reason Rick had chosen him as his familiar was because he was the first human he'd met without a tell. Rick could figure out most people within the first few minutes of meeting them, but had yet to see Daryl shaken by anything - until today; and they'd been working together going on eight years.

"I've made my choice," Rick said with the finality he'd honed as the leader of a clan of competitively disobedient vampires.

"And Michonne?" Daryl asked.

"I'll enlighten her when the time comes." Rick refused to let the pinch of guilt dampen his resolve. Michonne's safety remained his top priority. "It's the only way I can guarantee her protection."

Daryl smirked. "She's gonna be pissed."

Michonne had hated him for the last twenty years. What difference would another month or two make?

* * *

Michonne stared at the silk dress in the black gift box. She lay in bed surrounded by similar gift boxes of various sizes - five in total - which had arrived by courier soon after she'd returned home from the performance.

All that accompanied the gifts, wrapped in red ribbon, was a handwritten note: _WEAR THESE_. It was funny, really, how after all these years, she still recognized Rick's neat, all-cap handwriting.

She'd unwrapped the shoes first, 4" gold sandals with ankle wraps of an exquisitely red and gold geometric print. Next, was the polished gold bracelet, that wrapped around nearly half of her forearm, followed by the gold purse decorated in bold rubies that had to be worth more than Michonne could make in one night of the tour.

The last - and largest - box held a red violet dress so silky, that it ran through her fingers like milk.

"Bastard," Michonne mumbled, still upset by the thought of how moved she'd been. No gift, however lavish, could make up for all that she'd lost as a result of taking Rick at his word; at trusting him with the lives of her loved ones.

She spooned more mashed butternut squash into her mouth, the sweet and salty mixture melting on her tongue. It was her mother's recipe, one she'd carried in her mind all these years. The food offered comfort in more ways than one.

Michonne groaned at the sound of a key in the lock of the front door of her studio apartment. She pulled the comforter over her head, cradling her bowl of food, as she heard the door open and close.

Footsteps spanned the short distance from her door to her bed. Living in Tacoma was growing increasingly unaffordable and the modest studio was all she could afford on the band's earnings. From what they would get from the tour, she'd be able to upgrade to a studio on the side of the building overlooking the waterfront.

"You better be dressed under there," Andrea said, before peeling the comforter away.

Andrea and Michonne had been inseparable since college. They each had a key to the other's apartment, with an open invitation to drop by any time. Their sisterhood often caused tension with Mike, who felt entitled to privacy while spending time in _her_ apartment. Michonne made it clear that she would never risk a friendship over a romantic relationship, no matter how well Mike might have been putting it down in the bedroom. She felt a knot in her throat remembering their argument the night he died.

"What is this? Squash?" Andrea gagged, snatching the mixing bowl from Michonne. "You really need to up your junk food game. Pathetic."

Michonne had been vegan since college. She'd inherited lactose intolerance from her mother and consuming dead animals had never been all that satisfying for her.

"It's got butter in it," Michonne said defensively.

"Real butter?" Andrea eyed her.

"No," Michonne mumbled. "But the stuff has a shitload of calories."

"Whatever," Andrea placed the bowl of squash on Michonne's nightstand, far out of reach. "I'm not here to discuss your infuriatingly healthy eating habits." She squinted her eyes in that way that was half angry and half mischievous. "Rick. What the hell is going on between the two of you? And why haven't I ever heard of him until tonight?"

Michonne moved to pull the comforter back over her head. "Not now, Drea."

But Andrea was quicker, ripping the blanket from her hands. "Spill. Now."

Michonne sighed coolly. "There's nothing to spill."

"Bullshit. You disappear, without so much as a text, and Mike goes AWOL. And _then_ this sinfully hot guy shows up out of nowhere, claiming that he's not only an old friend of yours, but he's also filling in for Mike." She motioned to the shaved side of her head. "And I have yet to mention the hair."

"I'm a grown woman who reserves the right to change my hair color at any time, thank you." If only that were really the case. No matter how many times she washed her hair, the red remained; a glaring reminder of the mysterious death of the vampire who'd bitten her.

"Is Rick the real reason Mike left?"

Michonne wished it were that simple. She'd have to go along with Rick's lie - for now. Plus, she wasn't sure what might happen to Andrea and Sasha if she didn't. He _was_ a vampire after all.

"Nothing's going on between me and Rick. He's just someone I met in passing. And you know Mike," she said nonchalantly. "He's a bit…disagreeable at times, but he's as invested in the success of this tour as we are."

Lying came more naturally to Michonne than she'd ever willingly admit. Her brief stint in foster care had taught her that a thoughtfully-crafted, well-timed lie could tip fortune in her favor, when needed. And yet, having to lie about her dead ex-boyfriend gave her pause. Her only consolation was that she'd mourned Mike properly, sobbing in the tub like the runner-up of a beauty pageant. And then she'd made a huge bowl of mashed butternut squash to chew away any residual grief.

"Are you sure you want to kick Rick out?" Andrea asked, unforgivingly examining Michonne. Her friend could have been an excellent litigator.

After the show, Michonne had demanded that Rick leave - for good. Instead of leaving, he'd made a proposal.

"I'll leave the band," he said, in a way that made her chide herself for believing him. "But only if you accompany me to an event. Tomorrow night."

He'd had the nerve to put her on the spot in front of her band members, offering a proposal she had no choice but to accept. She'd do almost anything to make him disappear as swiftly as he'd reappeared in her life. No good would come of her being close to a destroyer like Rick, no matter how phenomenal he was at the guitar. Mike's death was proof of that.

"Rick's the best I've seen in a while, Mich," Andrea continued.

Michonne rolled her eyes. "You said the same thing about Mike."

"And I was right. I'm just sayin'…it's odd that you just want to throw him to the curb, especially if he's a friend of yours. And about Mike, maybe if you two hadn't started screwin' around in the first place, we wouldn't need to replace him. Rick's about the best we can do on such short notice." Andrea was an opportunist when it came to putting in her two cents.

"Just drop it, Drea. I've made my decision." Michonne refused to wrestle with the memories Rick's presence brought to the surface, regardless of her friend's thoughts on the matter.

Andrea took the hint. Her eyes drifted to the dress. "This from him?"

Michonne nodded.

Andrea ran her hand along the fabric, whistling in appreciation. "If I'd known his deal included gifts like this, I would've saved you the trouble and volunteered to go in your place."

Michonne never doubted Andrea's sincerity for one second. "I attend this party with him and then he leaves the band. And everything goes back to normal." Whatever that normal was, at this point.

"And you're sure that's what you want?" Andrea asked.

"Rick's out and Terry's in. End of story."

Getting Rick out of her life was the only way to guarantee the safety of the ones she cared about most in this world. He'd failed to protect her family the first time around; there was no way she'd give him another chance to let her down.

* * *

"The ribbon looks good like that," Rick said.

Michonne could feel that vampire gaze probing her hair. She'd weaved the red ribbons from the gift boxes into her elegant updo.

Her focus remained on the darkening landscape that swept by as Rick's driver navigated the deserted roads. She could just barely make out the lush Evergreens in the thick fog that had settled over the plot of land that was completely surrounded by water.

She'd avoided conversation with Rick for most of the ferry ride from Tacoma to Vashon Island. To think that all this time, she'd lived less than ten minutes from an island inhabited by a clan of vampires; a small fact Rick had mentioned on their way to the ferry.

"Stay close to me and don't look anyone in the eye," he'd said. "Humans are fair game if they wander off alone."

Michonne remained cool, though the thought of being surrounded by bloodthirsty vampires set her teeth on edge.

"No one will lay a hand on you," Rick had assured.

The conversation had ended there, with Michonne having no choice but to trust him, however uncertain she was about his intentions. She continued ignoring him, needing to dampen the flux of emotions that had surfaced earlier, when he'd admired her walking out of her apartment building wearing his dress, which was draped to enhance her curves in all the right places.

_They're predators_, Michonne reminded herself. It had been less than three days since she'd learned of the existence of vampires, yet she hated them with a fury greater than the rage she imbued in her music. Mike was dead, not due to any fault of his own, simply because he'd gotten in the way of a monster. It still hurt when she thought about him, but at least now her chest didn't tighten up like fist when she recalled the look of horror and confusion on his face before he died.

The third track from her latest and most popular album - _I Hate Cute_ \- played in the background as they made their way to the other side of the island. _Caught_ was the first song she'd ever written, reworked to best represent her as she was now. It'd been during the darkest time of her life, when she'd become a ward of the state for the three months before she turned eighteen.

The lyrics held an eerie relevance to her life in the present:

_Ignorance is bliss. _

_Ignorance is bliss. _

_Ignorance is bliss. _

_What you don't know won't hurt you._

However, now was not the time to turn a blind eye to all she'd experienced in the past few days; doing so would get her killed.

She turned to Rick, her need for information outweighing her anger. "I have questions. You owe me answers."

His single nod was conciliatory. "Ask me anything you want. You've waited long enough."

Michonne fired off her first question. "Why did you leave the day before…that night?" There was no need to specify any further, there was only _one_ night that connected their convoluted pasts.

Rick's expression remained unreadable. "I was meeting with a private investigator. He'd found a lead on your father."

Michonne breathed through the fear that churned in her belly at the mention of her father, but pressed forward. "He found us before you found him." Rick clenched his jaw in response. So, he wasn't completely heartless after all. "How?"

Rick's eyes dropped to the ground briefly before returning to face her. "Through Andre's school."

Andre had just started preschool then. Her hands trembled slightly at the memory of how her younger brother's eyes would light up every time she arrived to pick him up from school.

Rick reached over, wrapping his hand around hers. It was surprisingly warm. "Michonne, I never meant to-"

Michonne snatched her hand away, swallowing back the tears. "Save it," she said with venom. This was all she could handle, if she planned on holding it together for the rest of the night. "The band is leaving Tacoma tomorrow and the two of us are parting ways for good. That was the deal."

Her glare melted in the face of the smile that worked more than just her last nerve.

"I like the acoustic version better," he said.

"What?" she asked, momentarily distracted from her anger.

"The acoustic version of this song."

Michonne's heart skipped a beat. The acoustic version of _Caught_ had been her first single, which she'd paid for with the funds she'd saved from waitressing part-time in college. She'd only made ten copies of that demo, most of which she gave away for free. She'd laid her heart bare in that song. Living in the present, with the burden of the past hovering over her shoulder, had become burdensome; songwriting had been her only way to process all of that.

"Why don't you play the guitar anymore?" he asked.

She would never admit that she'd focused on singing because the guitar reminded her too much of him. He'd taught her to play.

"Have you always been a vampire?" she asked, awkwardly shifting the conversation.

"Yes."

It made sense now. Rick had only ever met with her mother at night, to go over the details of the case against her father.

"Are you still a lawyer?"

He nodded. "I've given up litigation, though. I own a law firm in Seattle that specializes in contracts."

He'd been so close - and yet so far - this whole time. She suddenly realized why Daryl had seemed so familiar to her the first time they met. "You've been keeping tabs on me."

"I've checked in on you occasionally."

Considering his resources, kicking Rick out of the band would likely not remove him from her life completely. She'd figure all of that out later.

"Did you have anything to do with Mike's death?"

"Of course not."

Michonne was momentarily shaken by the adamance in his deep voice.

"What happened to the vampire that bit me - was that normal?"

"You're different," was his vague response.

"Is there something wrong with me?" She'd been haunted by the thought for years, ever since that horrible night so long ago.

"You're definitely human, if that's what you're asking."

She believed him, but felt there was more to it than that.

_I'm human. And that's all I need to know, _she decided_._

The guitar solo of _Caught_ captured Michonne's wandering attention and her thoughts drifted to Mike. He'd never been good at expressing his feelings, but he poured emotion into his instrument with a finesse that couldn't be captured by words. His skill had initially attracted her to him; his authenticity was what kept her coming back. He'd only made her life more worth living, despite the fights that riddled their relationship. He'd taken the band - and her career - to a whole new level and she'd always be grateful for his presence in her life.

"Did you love him?" Rick asked, bringing her back.

"Huh?" Michonne asked, both flustered and irritated by his question.

"Mike. Did you love him?"

The stillness with which he awaited her response both frightened and enticed her. She imagined vampires thrived on human insecurity and fear.

"I cared about him."

"Of course. But he wasn't enough for you." The matter-of-fact way he said it only ignited her anger.

"Don't act like you know anything about me. I'm not the girl you used to know."

"I've noticed," he said, his eyes flitting to the crook of her neck. Michonne's pulse sped up under his gaze. It was his turn to look away.

She shifted in her seat, taking a few deep breaths to mitigate the flash of heat spreading in her chest. Rick remained silent for the rest of the ride and Michonne was grateful for it, though she took the opportunity to finally take him in.

The tailored lines of his three-piece charcoal suit were reminiscent of the 1950s, the dot detail of his matching tie adding a bit of whimsy to his look. His white dress shirt was pressed to perfection. His trousers clung to the slim, muscular thighs that looked as good in a suit as they did in jeans.

She wondered at Rick's true age, whether the suit he wore was one he'd bought in the fifties and if he'd appeared to be in his late thirties during that time as well.

The town car turned onto a gravel driveway that seemed to go on forever.

"Stay by my side," he reminded her. "And whatever you do tonight, do not sing."

She ignored the odd request. "Stop trying to tell me what-"

Rick was suddenly right next to her, his thigh pressing into her, his eyes glued to hers. Though his vampire powers failed to work on her, his masculinity made her draw a shaky breath. Michonne's eyes drifted to his full pink lips and the image of him slowly - hesitantly - pulling her into his arms and kissing her, his hidden fangs poking into in her bottom lip, sent her pulse into hyperdrive.

"Promise me," he whispered, his blue eyes becoming seductively dark and ominous.

"I promise," she whispered back before she could stop herself.

* * *

**A/N: Life got pretty hectic there and I posted this one later than expected, but I hope the longer chapter makes up for the delay. :) The lyrics in this chapter are from Tamar-Kali's _Caught_. We're going to meet some new characters in the next chapter, including Rick's maker, so I hope you feel compelled to stick around for more. I'm so grateful to find that so many people are interested in this paranormal Richonne romance. As always, thank you for the amazing feedback, faves and follows! ****Happy Thanksgiving!**


	5. Maimed

Michonne crinkled her nose at the spread of refreshments. Bloody Mary, blood pudding, blood stew - it _was_ possible to feel squeamish on an empty stomach.

Rick had left her stranded, snatched away by a blonde with way too much cleavage for her dress. He'd reminded her not to look anyone in the eyes and to not wander off, as though she were a child in an unfamiliar and dangerous world.

In a room full of vampires, however, that might be closer to the truth than she would ever admit.

Daryl stood a few feet to her left, back to the wall, scanning the room. He blended into the shadows in his black shirt and suit, his motorcycle vest retired for the evening and his normally tangled hair tamed by a touch of product. He remained close enough for her to know he was there, but far enough to avoid any actual conversation.

An indifferent grunt had been her only reward for attempting small talk. The aloof man may have been hopeless when it came to human interaction, but she felt safe knowing at least one set of eyes on her would be his.

Michonne sipped her deliciously strong gin and tonic, settling into the buzz. Courage snuck up on her, nudging her to take in the surroundings. The ballroom was so grand, she had to remind herself that she was actually in someone's home. A crystal chandelier gleamed in the center of the room, illuminating the gold trim of the walls and arches in a regal glow. Evenly spaced lamp fixtures softened the corners of the room, driving away at least some of the darkness.

A jazz quartet, uniformly decked out in black and red, played a somber yet soulful tune. Servers dressed in all red traversed the ballroom balancing trays of pink champagne and more blood-colored hors d'oeuvres that made her stomach turn. There was very little dancing, with most vampires huddled in intimate groups, hobnobbing in evening wear and exquisitely decorated masks.

Michonne adjusted her own mask, letting her skin breathe. Rick had given it to her before they'd exited the limo. The mask was hand-stitched black lace shaped in elegant curves and paired with black rhinestones. A matching brooch on the left side of the mask, which was only large enough to cover the top half of her face, held a flurry of silky feathers, with streaks of dark red and purple.

"It's beautiful," Michonne had said, handling it with delicacy as she admired the intricacy of the design. Attending a masquerade ball was a first for her.

"May I?" Rick asked.

She nodded curtly and handed him the mask. He placed it lightly on her face, his fingers brushing her cheeks as he reached behind her to tie the black strands of silk in a knot at the back of her updo.

Even now, as Michonne's eyes kept landing on him in the crowded ballroom, she felt the shiver Rick's touch had evoked. He stood on the other side of the room, his hand on the shoulder of a bulky, red-headed man who reminded her of a drill sergeant, with his cropped haircut and thick mustache. The intricate tailoring of Rick's suit was even more admirable from afar, the sleeves of his jacket just tight enough to flatter his sculpted biceps. He appeared to be in deep conversation, but Michonne was sure that if she even sniffed, he would hear it.

It freaked her out how quiet the vampires were, their collective voices barely audible against the backdrop of smooth jazz; the only sign they were something other than human beings.

_The perfect predators_, she thought, unease causing a tingling sensation at the back of her jaw. After tonight, she hoped to never think of these human-looking predators again.

All eyes had been on her when she'd walked into the grand ballroom at Rick's side. She'd gone from feeling confident to confined in her dress, trapped by the tight clothing. Although most of the guests had returned to their conversations without giving her a second glance, she still felt their eyes on her.

Paranoia was a virtue, especially when among those who imitated the living.

Michonne reached for the red velvet cake that she'd been eyeing all evening. A temporary lapse in judgment. She had very few vices, but at the top of that very short list was stress-eating at the most inopportune times. That being said, resisting a moist yet springy slice of the her favorite cake would have been akin to prolonged torture.

She savored a large spoonful of the dessert - sweet, creamy, slightly tangy and…metallic. The flavor of blood flooded her taste buds. Michonne suppressed a gag as she inconspicuously ejected the half-chewed piece into her white linen napkin.

"Not what you were expecting?" the person beside her asked. In place of a mask, he wore a white eye patch decorated with a red skull and bones. What made her do a double take, however, was the fact that he looked to be a teenager. "They don't go out of their way to accommodate humans." His visible eye twinkled blue with interest.

What was a teenager doing in a room full of vampires? Was he here against his will? Maybe she wasn't the only one being forced to attend. Either way, the kid was the only other human she'd met that night. Conversing with someone who could focus on her eyes rather than the pulse at her neck was the smallest of comforts.

"I was too nervous to eat before. Now I'm too nervous to not eat," she said, looking up at him. She may have had a couple of decades on him, but he was still four or five inches taller than her.

He chuckled. "Good thing I've come bearing gifts." He reached behind the lapel of his black suit and pulled out a Big Kat.

Michonne's stomach growled in thanks as she accepted the candy bar. "I hope you realize we're friends for life now." She ripped open the wrapper. The first bite was as gratifying as a steaming bowl of pesto penne on a cheat day. The combination of salty and sweet had her taste buds humming in harmony.

"You're enjoying it way more than I ever could." He smiled and she noticed canines that were much longer than average.

The candy felt like a weight in her gut. _A teenage vampire?_ Michonne took a step away from him.

"You thought I was human…" The satisfaction in his expression surprised her. "That hasn't happened to me in a while. Thank you."

Just because he looked so human and sounded so sincere, it didn't mean his fangs weren't as sharp as the others'. "How old are you, really?"

His eyebrows rose. "You don't know much about vampires, do you?"

"Did I offend you?" Michonne had zero interest in adhering to vampire etiquette.

"No, I'm not easily offended. But if you want to survive this crowd, you should probably steer clear of that question."

"Got it. Vampires are sensitive about their age."

He laughed. "Carl."

"Huh?"

"You should at least know my name before asking how old I am."

She took another bite of her Big Kat. "Michonne," she said.

"I've been a vampire for longer than I was human. If you want to know more, you owe me a Big Kat in return."

Against the most wary of her instincts, Michonne found herself warming up to this teenage monster.

"What's going on here?" Rick asked, walking up to her with Daryl in tow.

"Chatting," Michonne said. "It's something normal people do." Not that Carl was was exactly "people."

All hints of kindness dropped from Carl's face as he stared Rick down. "Rick."

Michonne looked back and forth between the two of them, the tension so palpable sweat beaded above her upper lip.

"Son," Rick said gently, as though he were impervious to Carl's death glare.

That's when she noticed the resemblance between them - in the eyes, which were as sharp as blue-tinged glass.

_Rick has a son? And he's a vampire? _Her brain failed to make sense of it all. There was so much she _thought_ she knew and so little she _actually_ knew when it came to these creatures.

And yet, as intriguing as this moment was between father and son, Michonne felt a force pull her attention away. Her eyes locked with those of a brunette, the smile on her face welcoming and unexpectedly genuine. The woman made her way across the room, headed straight for them. Her power manifested in the way she walked - glided, really - with a glamorously privileged air.

Before Michonne's brain processed her fear, the woman was upon them. She appeared to be middle-aged, but even the faint lines on her face held an unnatural smoothness.

"Welcome to Alexandria, Michonne," she greeted, with a warm smile. "It's so nice to finally meet you." The woman placed a hand on Rick's shoulder. Carl had disappeared at some point, leaving a huge question mark where Rick's son - _vampire_ son - was concerned.

Michonne studied the interaction between Rick and the woman, the close bond between the two of them evident. She connected the dots.

"You're Deanna," she said. While Rick had kept her pretty much in the dark about the ceremony, he'd at least filled her in about the host and owner of the mansion.

Deanna's expression remained open, throwing Michonne's defenses off a bit. She was the leader of the Alexandria territory and hence, the most powerful vampire in the room. Similar to Rick, she wore no mask. In a green chiffon dress accessorized by a matching emerald necklace, the top of her head barely reached Michonne's shoulders, but her presence filled up the entire ballroom.

"My apologies if the food's not to your liking. I would've had human options prepared if I'd known you were coming."

Rick's mild embarrassment told Michonne she wasn't the only one who picked up on the side-eye in Deanna's words.

"It's no problem. I'm not really that hungry anyway." Which was true, thanks to Carl.

Deanna took Michonne in, from head to toe. "I can see why Rick likes you. You're a survivor. Like him."

"I'm not a survivor by choice," Michonne said bluntly, avoiding eye contact with Rick. "I just took life by the horns and held on for dear life."

Surviving one's family was not a situation she'd been prepared for as a teenager. It had taken a lot of work to get to where she was today. Most days, she wished only to be with her family…alive or dead.

Deanna considered her words, a thoughtful smile gracing her lips. "Hmm. A poet as well."

"She's a songwriter," Rick finally added to the conversation.

What was going on with him? Why was he suddenly acting so shy?

Michonne took a sip of her drink, wanting nothing more than to remove herself from the center of attention. "How do you know each other?" She had a hard time imagining Rick being close to anyone, but there was a natural rapport between them.

Deanna's smile was half amused and half annoyed. "Rick's secrecy is equally impressive and infuriating. I'm his maker, dear."

"His maker?" Michonne's throat went dry at a sudden thought. Here she was, amidst a sea of blood-sucking vampires, her life dependent on their generosity. Rick had promised she'd be safe, that he'd check even the inkling of a threat. But what if the threat came from the vampire who'd bestowed him with immortality?

Michonne chose to remain blissfully unaware of vampire etiquette. "How long has Rick been a vampire?" Butterflies swirled in the pit of Michonne's stomach in anticipation.

"You'll learn that soon enough, once your bond deepens."

Michonne's thumping heart betrayed her. "There's nothing going on between us. You're mistaken."

"Am I?" Deanna asked Rick.

His eyes were on Michonne. "That's up to her."

Michonne ignored him. "You don't understand. I could never have feelings for Rick because I-"

"Hate him," Deanna interrupted.

Michonne was silenced by her innermost thoughts being spoken out loud. It almost seemed too harsh. Almost.

But it was her truth. It was where she was - and would be for the foreseeable future. Nothing, not even a random act of fate, would change that.

"The line between hate and love is as thin as a razor. Your hate for him may very well lead to something more. And with that, I must leave you."

Deanna pulled Rick down to her and touch her forehead to his. They seemed to communicate without words, on their own frequency. Michonne's heart swelled at the memory of her mother doing the same to her, like clockwork, before bed.

Michonne would never forget what she'd lost. And never forgive the man who was the cause of that loss.

Deanna grasped Michonne's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Ask her to dance," she said to Rick.

"What?" Rick and Michonne blurted out simultaneously.

"Ask her." This time Deanna zoned in on him, her quiet stare reminding Michonne that a vampire lurked beneath the cultured demeanor.

Rick trained those sparkling eyes on Michonne, equally dashing and expectant. "May I have this dance?"

There was no manipulation in his soft gaze, only patience. Michonne looked down at the hand he offered. The more she pulled away, the more he pulled her in.

"This ceremony's in Rick's honor, after all," Deanna chimed in. "And if you don't accept, he won't dance at all tonight."

Deanna placed Michonne's hand in Rick's, before gliding away as easily as she had come.

On cue, Rick drew Michonne in, his hand hovering near the small of her back; close enough to feel his heat.

Michonne hesitated. _It's just a dance. And it's better than standing around waiting for the worst to happen_.

Exhaling, she placed an unsteady hand on his shoulder. With a flicker of a smile on his lips, Rick pressed his palm against her skin, his hand hot at her back.

_Breathe_, she reminded herself.

He lead them in a smooth slow dance, Michonne having no choice but to follow.

"You look beautiful tonight," Rick said, his warm breath caressing the tip of her ear.

Michonne kept her eyes on the room. "Thank you," she said, hoping to come across as indifferent.

"Even better than I imagined."

Michonne wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment or a low-key insult. "Because your expectations for me are so low?"

Rick paused, forcing Michonne to look up at him. "No," he whispered. "Because they're unbelievably high when it comes to you."

His tone of voice, his words, his look - all threatened to make her see him anew. Not the Rick she'd loathed all these years and wished only the worse for. Not even the Rick she became infatuated with as a doe-eyed teen. But the Rick with his hand glued to the small of her back, staring down at her with overwhelming tenderness.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, unable to suppress the trembling of her voice. Enough with the mystery. If Rick wanted her trust, he would have to be straight with her.

"For your protection," he said simply.

Michonne tensed, waiting for more. Rick offered nothing.

Could he hear the wild beating of her heart in her cavernous chest? Whether it was the result of anger or excitement, she couldn't tell.

"The only thing I need protection from is you."

Rick squinted his eyes. He had the nerve to look hurt.

Luckily, before he had the chance to force her to reconsider her words, a tall, lanky man tapped Rick on the shoulder. He was accompanied by the same woman who'd stolen Rick away earlier. The combination of her bright red lipstick and flawless pale skin was blindingly stunning up close.

If being a vampire meant she could do away with her nighttime skincare routine, Michonne might actually consider it a fair trade for her soul.

"Sorry to interrupt this lovely display," the man said with a practiced smile that failed to counteract the chill of his blue eyes.

Rick turned to face the man head-on, anger seeming to rise like steam from his tense shoulders.

"Hot skates, thin ice, Phillip." Rick laced his name with disdain.

Phillip's lip curled into a polite sneer. "Deanna needs us."

While Michonne could only wonder at the source of animosity between these two or the potential threat the other man posed, Rick's protectiveness still sent a shiver down the curve of her exposed back.

Rick kept Phillip in his peripheral vision while addressing her. "This won't take long." His eyes probed her expression, which she hoped remained blank. "Daryl."

His familiar practically materialized out of thin air. The longer Michonne remained in the world of vampires, the more she felt out of sink, as though things moved here a millisecond too fast.

Michonne nodded. "I'll be fine."

But for the first time, Michonne felt anxious at the thought of Rick's departure. He gently pulled her into him, his warm hand returning to the small of her back. "No one will even have a chance to harm you. They'll die first."

Michonne sucked in a sharp breath, her nipples pebbling in response to the conviction in his threat. The thin silk of her dress left little to the imagination and she was grateful for the shield his firm chest provided.

They separated, Rick leaving her both blazing hot and ice cold all over.

"It'll be quick," Daryl said, his first reassuring words of the night.

She watched Rick walk away, with Phillip close behind. "Why am I really here?" she asked, pulling the other half of the Big Kat from her purse. Rick had managed to dodge her questions all night and his familiar was her only chance of getting any answers.

Daryl only grunted in response, back in watchdog mode, his eyes as piercing as a German Shepherd's.

"We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Jessie," said the blonde woman who'd accompanied Phillip. She'd been so quiet that Michonne had all but forgotten about her.

"Michonne." Instinct told her the less she shared with this vampire, the better. She focused on her snack, chewing the last of the candy bar with abandon. Jessie watched Michonne curiously, as though she were trying to decipher the meaning of an abstract painting.

"What a beautiful name," Jessie said, her fake smile punctuated by delicate fangs. "It's nice to meet you, Michonne." She held out her hand.

Michonne ignored the empty gesture. She guessed the vampire's polished tact proved handy in beguiling humans moments before she sucked the life out of them.

_Avoid the eyes_, she reminded herself, focusing on Jessie's jawline.

Jessie's smile wavered a bit at the slight. "He's trained you well."

"Excuse me?" Michonne lifted her head, shifting her gaze to Jessie's shoulder. If she hadn't just swallowed the last of her Big Kat, she might have choked on it.

Jessie shrugged. "Even a prized pet requires a few lessons."

Michonne's blood ran hot through her veins, her vision blurring with angry tears. So that's why he'd brought her tonight, to show her off like some rescue from the pound?

Jessie sniffed, her button nose pointed in Michonne's direction. "Is that your natural scent? It's intoxicating."

Daryl stepped between the two of them, effectively blocking Jessie. "Close enough."

Between the passive-aggressive vampires and Rick's mixed messages, Michonne was fed up and exhausted. She'd kept her end of the deal by accompanying him for the night. There were no stipulations on how long she had to stick around.

"I'm done," she said, hastily searching for the exit. "Take me home."

Just then, the chandelier dimmed to a muted glow. Michonne huffed. She'd need vampire vision to find a way out of the ballroom on her own.

The band ceased playing as Deanna stepped onto the stage into a pool of moonlight that streamed through a round window in the ceiling of the ballroom. Rick and Phillip stood on either side of her. "Thank you all for joining us tonight." Her voice carried well without a microphone, as it was quiet enough in the room to hear a tree fall in the forest miles away.

"For twenty years, I've controlled the most infamous territory on the West Coast," Deanna spoke with a natural command and authority.

_Twenty years?_ That couldn't be a coincidence.

Deanna continued. "Alexandria is defined by a core of values - innovation, efficiency, order - but the one that defines us, that has allowed us to surpass all others, is loyalty." She motioned to Rick and Phillip. "These two men played a key role in elevating Alexandria to the top. Rick's leadership and business acumen, coupled with Phillip's passion for law and order, have positioned us to lead for decades to come. "

Rick's eyes were trained on Michonne, as they had been for the entirety of Deanna's speech.

"Although it is with a heavy heart that I step down as your leader, I'm proud to finally name my successor. It was the hardest decision I've had to make in a long time, but this man can ensure Alexandria becomes a beacon of hope for the future, one where vampires and humans can co-exist peacefully." Rick stepped forward. "Long live Rick Grimes, the newly appointed leader of Alexandria."

The room remained deathly silent as everyone, including Phillip, knelt down before Rick. So the mystery was finally solved, this was a ceremony to commemorate the passing of the torch from Deanna to Rick. Why he'd bribed her into coming, Michonne still had no clue.

Deanna motioned her way. "And we also welcome the first human member of Alexandria, Rick's chosen partner in life and death. Michonne Grimes."

Michonne _who? _Rick's _what? _

She would never agree to be anyone's wife - or whatever - let alone Rick's. Either she'd heard wrong or Rick had just started a fight she intended to finish, even if it took her last living breath.

Rick had blinded her to the truth and then used her blindness against her. But this time, she wouldn't just lie there, wounded and confused. Her only power lay in doing exactly what Rick did not want her to do.

She ripped her mask from her face, flinging it to the ground. She took in the silent room and all those vampires on their knees and felt - empowered.

She would force them to feel her rage. Rick especially. Michonne took a slow, deep breath.

"Michonne," Rick warned from the stage.

Michonne belted out the words, like her life depended on it:

_Filling up my mind with hate, disgrace and waste_

_My rage is not allowed_

She ignored the tortuous hissing that filled the silence between her breaths.

_Try to hide your face but I can smell your sin_

_You wear the devil crown_

The last note was loud, sharp and long, Michonne pouring every drop of her soul into it. The chandelier exploded, shattered glass raining to the ground.

In the darkness, the hisses and shouts were amplified. Breaking glass and the sound of scuffling overlapped. All hell had broken loose and Michonne couldn't see a thing.

Suddenly, she was swooped up and thrown over someone's shoulder. Not only was she moving at an unreal speed, but she had an eyeful of Rick's tight ass below the hem of his coat.

"Put me down," she yelled, pummeling his back. It was like hitting a brick wall.

"I told you not to do that," Rick said, as he zipped down the long hallway, across the driveway and into the dark night.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all for coming back to this story. I should have known better and put it on hiatus, but that's one lesson I've still got to learn. :) The story will shift quite a bit in the next chapter, with lots more vampire Carl. Will try to get that one out in the next couple of weeks, now that I'm officially "back." Hope everyone's safe and healthy and thanks for not letting me put this one down. As always, your faves, follows and comments are tremendously encouraging!**


	6. ON HIATUS

Hi Everyone. Thank you for all of the lovely comments and support of this story. I've been trying my hardest to continue with this story, but I seem to have hit a roadblock. For that reason, I'm putting this story on hold until I work myself out of this funk. My hope is to come back soon, with several chapters ready to go. I wish everyone well and hope you're all staying safe! Thanks again for all your support. You're truly the best community of readers out there! Peace and Blessings XOXO


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